


Shoulda Been Dead a Long Time Ago

by Scarlet_Ribbons



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Jared suffers, M/M, PI Jared, Riding, and Jensen is done, mentions of blood but minimal violence, smpc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:48:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24713359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlet_Ribbons/pseuds/Scarlet_Ribbons
Summary: He really wishes his clients wouldn’t pick fights with him at 1 in the goddamn morning, but that’s apparently too much to ask.
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki
Comments: 18
Kudos: 195





	Shoulda Been Dead a Long Time Ago

Six button-down white shirts, pressed crisp with the iron, and now, including the one he’s currently wearing, five of them are covered in blood. 

One of his teeth, far back where he’d gotten socked in the face by a spiteful husband, wiggles slightly when he shoves his tongue against it like a dumb masochist. It makes him feel something.

(Mostly pain). 

It’s like, is this even worth the money?- he thinks, as he pinches the bridge of his nose to stem the flow of blood. Jen’s gonna have his balls for this one; there’s blood every-fucking-where. Why the hell does so much blood come out of his face? Where does it even come from? The client’s sink is splattered with it, the faucet and mirror flecked red, and he hasn’t even begun to deal with the groaning body sprawled on the ceramic floor like a soggy, deconstructed pretzel. 

He tugs his tie down, loosening the knot because it’s throttling him, and effortfully bends creaky knees to fish for the client’s wallet. Is he getting like, early stage arthritis? Why the hell do his bones hurt so much? He’s only 26. If only he’d listened when everyone around him kept trying to get him to drink milk, ‘cause, at this rate, he’ll probably die if he trips and hits the sidewalk wrong. He sounds like a bag of popcorn in the microwave when he straightens.

Of course, getting in fights isn’t exactly helping his condition (his nose may never be the same. Rest In Peace). 

“Don’t friggin’ punch _me_ just because I told you what you already wanted to hear about your wife,” he grumbles spitefully, tossing the now empty wallet back onto the client’s chest. The dumbass underfoot just groans pathetically, but Jay figures he’ll probably be more pissed once he finds out Jay’s imposed an asshole tax on him on top of the usual fees. Play stupid games, win the stupidest of prizes.

He steps through a pile of black and whites (not that they need to be black and white. But he does it for that noir aesthetic, of course) and heads out of this bougie-ass exposed-brick dumpster fire for the streets of LA.

LA’s quiet and buzzed and high as a kite upstairs, but down below, it’s loud as hell. He tears a loose nail off with his teeth and combs sweat-sticky hair back away from his face as he looks around to get his bearings. There are street carts every two feet, so he snags a gyro off one ‘cause he’s starving and then buys two more ‘cause he’s _starving_. It’s fuck o’ clock in the morning and Jensen’s going to string him up like those fancy fairy lights every college girl has in her dorm room. 

Deanna’s perched on the steps in front of their complex like she is every night, and she turtles a gummy, knowing smile at him as he painstakingly climbs the steps up to the door. 

“Boy, you look like hell.” She says triumphantly, and Jared likes to think she derives some sort of pleasure from racking up his laundry list of injuries to see how interesting they get. “Did you finally lose a tooth?” 

“Not yet, De’,” he yawns. One day he’s gonna get kicked in the nuts and De is gonna be over the damn moon with glee. “My teeth are all in place. Bloody,” he adds as a glum afterthought, “but all in place.” 

“Shame.” She grumbles, going back to crocheting or whatever it is people do with those big ass needles. He figures one day she’ll get impatient and just stab him herself for entertainment. “I thought you’d finally lose a kidney or something. Wake me up when something interesting happens.” 

“I’ll invite you to my hospital room,” Jay mutters with no heat, rolling his eyes as he closes the door and makes his way to the elevator. He spends the short ride coming up with a series of excuses, each one getting more and more ludicrous, as to why he’s returning back to their apartment at- 

He checks the bloodied, spiderwebbed screen of his watch.

-3:46. Not bad. 

The light switches on the second he fumbles the lock and crosses the threshold. Jensen’s a pretty picture of fury on the armchair, looking like a scorned spouse in a silk night robe. Jared swipes his fingers through his hair, going for the sheepish smile but stopping because his mouth is just full of blood and it’s definitely going to be more off-putting than comforting. 

“Why even come home,” Jensen asks scathingly, rising from the couch like the grim reaper himself and punctuating his rage with a pointed look at their clock.

“That clock’s broken,” Jared says because he’s an idiot. Jen stares at him incredulously, so Jay keeps going. Like an idiot. “Er, but my watch says 3:46, so-”

Jensen throws up his hands. “I fucking hate you,” he says like he’s coming to a long overdue revelation. “Oh my god. I actually fucking hate you.”

And Jared smiles (bloody teeth be damned), because it’s like, the fifth time he’s heard that today. “Sorry. Listen, can we have the argument tomorrow... later today?”

Jensen swishes past him, outraged, managing to land a killer sock in the arm in like one of the three places Jared isn’t injured. He acts like a dramatic bitch anyway and topples to the ground with a wail, actually causing himself more pain that whatever Jensen’s bee-sting punch had. 

“I’m not going to come comfort you,” Jensen hollers haughtily from their bedroom, which is a shame because Jared’s not sure he can actually get back upright. The walk back had been okay, but a sudden soreness kicks in that leaves him reeling slightly as he tries to get vertical. This is instant karma. 

Seconds tick by before Jensen returns to his side with a glass of water and dissolved painkillers. He manages to half-drag, half-carry him into the bedroom and literally throws him down on the mattress punishingly, which yeah, he kind of deserves. Being injured is lame as hell.

“This is like, your last good white shirt,” Jensen complains, fingers neatly working buttons out of buttonholes and sleeves off his shoulders. “Now they’re all fucking bloody, you clumsy dumbass.”

“Second to last.” Jared trails his hands over Jensen’s busy wrists, squeezing affectionately. His boyfriend shakes him loose with feigned irritation, lips pressed tight into an unamused frown, but the way he dabs antiseptic is gentle.

“It stings.”

“Tough.” Jensen sits back, robe now a forgotten silk puddle somewhere on the gross carpet. He straddles Jared as he prods at him, tutting every time Jared sucks in a breath too fast or hisses out between his teeth. “Just how mad was this guy that his wife cheated?“

“On a scale of 1 to 10?” Jared tongues at the loose tooth, curling his fingers around the nape of Jen’s neck to pull him in close. “13.” He lets the - _teen_ fade out into Jensen’s mouth, puffing out an exhaled laugh. “Breaking- Dickhead acts like a dickhead and is surprised when his wife leaves him.” 

“My boyfriend could learn a thing or two from that,” Jensen mutters, the heel of his hand resting with just a little too much pressure against a raw bruise under Jared’s ribs. Jared suffers quietly. “Just go back to law school, Jay. This gig sucks ass and you can’t even really tell anyone you’re a PI. You keep getting punched by your own damn clients.” 

Jared’s hands find themselves sliding down the sides of Jen’s waists, down into his boxers so he can work them down. Jensen lets him, though seems to be moving fairly gingerly considering Jared’s fucked-up state. He realizes he should respond to Jen and offers a one-shoulder shrug as he gets the boxers down far enough.

“Still like it, though. Getting into a fight once in a while, helps me work off the adrenaline.” Jared’s fingers drum over the curve of Jen’s ass, and he allows himself to melt into the familiar embrace of strong-ass painkillers. Jen’s got the good stuff.

“Just go to therapy like the rest of us,” Jensen arches up against Jared’s fingers, hands curving over Jared’s shoulders, and Jared’s finally able to sit up a little without his body’s nerve endings lighting up like a fucking pinball machine. He lets Jensen take over, helping only minimally by unbuttoning his slacks so he can get his dick out. “You sure you can actually handle this?” Jen asks skeptically, cataloguing Jared’s numerous injuries with sharp eyes even as he liberally gets lube all over the two of them. 

Jen’s hilarious. It’s like, babe, the lube only needs to really be in two places, but come morning, they’re both just covered in the stuff like the bottle exploded. Jared doesn’t complain ‘cause whatever Jen does to get Jared inside of him is none of his business as long as it works. He makes both their jobs harder by pulling Jensen down again, marking him up with a litany of messy love bites against his throat and collar. His tongue punches hard against skin trapped between his teeth, and Jensen purrs out a sound that just fries what remains of Jared’s nerves.

  
“I’m sure.”

He punctuates the finality of his words by snapping his hips up with monumental effort. It’s probably his last hurrah considering how much effort it takes, but Jensen meets him halfway, clenches, and damn near takes his dick off. It’s still hot as fuck though, if the noises Jared is making are any indication. 

His hands curl around Jen’s hips, fingers pressing infant bruises as Jensen rides him with literally no sympathy toward Jared’s current condition. Seriously, the way Jen’s ass slaps against his thighs is so good but it’s probably gonna be the thing that sends Jared to an early grave. Jared’s head cranes back, slope of his throat obviously prime biting grounds, and Jensen nips fervently at him. His boyfriend is doing so much.

“Holy fuck, I am so injured,” Jared groans out laughingly at some point, pressure building up between the two of them as he goes for broke with several short thrusts that get Jensen’s eyes to roll back a little. It’s always fun to see the bratty, smug expression dissolve into something open-mouthed and stunned, and the trophy is the curl of Jen’s toes against Jared’s legs. One of his hands is currently twined with Jen’s, so he gathers a couple brain cells together and wraps his free one around Jensen’s dick. Jensen squeaks out a shuddering little gasp as Jared flicks his wrist upward minimally, his tongue pressed against his teeth and back arched dramatically. Drama queen. 

Jared determinedly doesn’t let up, trailing his thumb over the heart-shaped head of Jen’s dick and doing a fancy five-fingered stroke over the precome-slick length. It nets him the exact reaction he expected, and Jen does one of those full-body adrenaline shivers as he snaps his hips slightly to thrust against Jared’s fingers. At the same time, Jared pushes upwards, thoroughly filling Jensen to the brim and cornering him on both ends in their messy and extremely inappropriate version of tic-tac-toe. Jensen’s so overwhelmed he comes right then and there, messy wet spurts streaking Jared’s chest as his toes curl even harder. 

Watching his boyfriend unravel is Jared’s biggest fucking kink. When he comes himself, it trickles out over his thighs and makes a huge ridiculous mess and ruins the bedsheets, as per usual.

“Why can’t I keep any fabric clean of bodily fluids,” he bemoans, and now both of his hands (one significantly stickier than the other) are all tangled up in Jensen, much like the rest of him. He feels a very chaste kiss against the hollow of his throat along with a fondly muttered “dumbass,” and that definitely isn’t going to make him feel better when he wakes up in the morning without painkillers and in the sticky mess of their sheets. 

(But it sure as hell does make him feel better now). 


End file.
